✷sun kissed✷

She/Her ● 21

[toxicactually]

Hi! I'm Cas, 21 and a certified aquarius ⊰⁠⊹ฺ

Currently on a terrible hyperfixation with blue lock and genshin impact but I do indulge in other fandoms.

Mostly reblogs or likes as posts. Would love to find mutuals but I'm bad at interacting (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

I don't mind dm's so feel free to message me whenever you wanna say something (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

Credit to @djarrex for the lovely dividers ♡

[veejiez]

EVIL BARISTA NAOYA who is evil, and a barista (crazy I know)

EVIL BARISTA NAOYA who spits in the drinks of people who give him cheek, because if they're ruining his day then he'll speed up karma's arrival with the power of Zenin bacteria.

EVIL BARISTA NAOYA who definitely scratches his tangy balls and doesn't wash his hands.

EVIL BARISTA NAOYA who hates his co-worker Choso, because all the girls fawn over him and his soft smile and pretty eyes and silly hairstyle. So catch him grumbling over it.

EVIL BARISTA NAOYA who is forever contemplating if he should contaminate the milk with another white substance. Or better yet. Hydrochloric acid.

EVIL BARISTA NAOYA who does NOT smile at customers, and tweets about 'grown ass adults' wanting a Strawberry Non-Fat Frothiccino with Chocolate Sprinkles and No Dick Cheese or whatever it is they order.

EVIL BARISTA NAOYA who has a very pronounced scowl permanently printed onto his frustratingly pretty face while he skillfully pours beverage by beverage, hating everything and everyone.

EVIL BARISTA NAOYA who has been fired five times and counting.

EVIL BARISTA NAOYA who releases a heavy sigh while untying his apron after work, and curses his co-workers for leaving him to lock up for the day—when suddenly someone is tapping at the glass. And he's just about ready to snap because his nerves are all but decimated like the smoothies he's been blending all day.

EVIL BARISTA NAOYA who grumbles while making your beverage and eyeballs you the whole time, eyeliner all but melted off after a long day. He gives you the stankiest, nastiest, most putridly foul look and forces the lid on the cup before handing it to you with all the audacity a man could possibly have. To top it all off, he pronounces your name wrong on purpose, before saying; "Here's your McFuckaccino, now get out."

ㅤㅤㅤ──── an guys i think he might be an evil barista. idk.

[h0neyspaceplanet]

𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 [bang chan]

➝ pairing. boxer!bang chan x fem!reader ➝ genre. smut, fluff at the beginning ➝ warnings. explicit language, possessiveness, sensory deprivation, bondage, breeding kink, praise kink, degradation, big dick shy man, bulge kink 👀, marking ➝ word count. 1.8k words ➝ notes. sub chan is a great chan,,, sub chan being a simp for his wife is an ever better chan >> tagging @youn9racha​ because i mentioned this in passing and she lost her mind. also when i was writing the smut, like mix sex scene, my stepmum came up behind me and stood there while discussing dead people with her mother 🤧🔫

Chan loved the adrenaline rush that came with boxing. The way he could hear the crowd roaring every time he landed a punch on his opponent. How he could hear his blood pumping in his ears with each duck and weave. Then, his personal favourite part, hearing his name cheered as the referee holds his hand up in victory - nothing could beat it. 

It was why when his arm was held up in the air, his opponent beaten on the boxing ring floor, and the crowd all crying out about his victory, Chan couldn’t help but roar in his victory. His heart was rapid with the adrenaline, both from the victory and knowing that he was going to be spoiled.

Keep reading

[nasahq]

lads on twitter: part 16

(other :3)

[goddamn-it-girl]

y’all be saying ‘embrace the cringe’ and so but honestly I’ve been into fandoms and k-pop and fanfiction since I was like twelve I’m not embracing anything bro I AM the cringe this banner didn’t even made me flinch please unlearn shame and free yourself from the cage you have built in your brain just enjoy being y/n fucked on the backstage because you can.

[searyyn]

My first Love and Deepspace "art" shall be a lazy shitpost

[vampiranewmix]

[depsidase]

[bibbysstuff]

one kiss each!

[sharieb]

My heart was blessed. This is so cute 🥹😍 I want to give Snowblobus extra kisses cause I love teasing too much (the others will get extra kisses too but Snow first)

[depsidase]

[draculiette]

shidou as your college boyfriend would include..

collegebf!shidou who majors in fine arts and is absolutely killing it. whenever he has an assignment due he'll always use you as a reference. don't even get me started on how long you've had to sit for paintings.. he could just go off of a photo of you, but he insists that "the real thing is better, babe." (his excuse to spend more time with you)

collegebf!shidou who is always the culprit when it comes to innapropriate kahoot names. mike oxlong, hugh jass, eric shun.. you name it. he plays it smart too and makes sure to join with his real name from another tab.

collegebf!shidou who is willing to be late for his lecture if it means that he gets to stop by the vending machines and drop off your favourite drink. "don't sweat it babe, it was on the way!" (on the other side of campus, but sure)

collegebf!shidou who leaves sticky notes on your desk (he remembers where you like to sit in the lecture hall) that say something along the lines of explode for me <3 or just a simple i love you. you've accumulated around 500 by now.

collegebf!shidou who gets invited to every party and takes you as his plus-one each time. for halloween, he practically begged you to have matching costumes. you gave in once he revealed that he wanted to dress up as a deer and headlights.. of course.

collegebf!shidou who sneaks into your dorm through a window in the middle of the night. he cuddles up with you on the top bunk, being extra careful as to not wake your unsuspecting roommate. he gives you a kiss goodbye and leaves before they wake up ♡

© draculiette ✧ do not copy or repost any of my work

[heiibo]

헌트릭스 치비 만화 너무 좋아요! 사자말이 나오는 헌트릭스 만화는 어때요?

👌👌귀엽겠네요! I think that’s cute!

[catchymemes]

[blkkizzat]

literally sukuna and us in cat form !!

OMFGFHFNFJBHS. AHHHHH YESSS!! Lmfao so tea! aweee thats so cute the wild cat napping with cute house cat reader….

wait i got an idea! im cooking~!

Caracal!Sukuna x Housecat!Reader ♡ ft. Exotic Pet Owners!Satosugu mdni.18+

Caracal!Sukuna who is nothing but trouble for Exotic Pet Owners!Satosugu —a hybrid rescue with an infamous rap sheet for mauling smaller species and instigating near-death scraps with larger predators. Sukuna is passed from nature reserve to nature reserve until he finally lands into Gojo and Geto’s care. 

Caracal!Sukuna who is always alone, kept in his own special section of the Gojo family nature conservation in the back of their huge mansion. Only the small prey animals ment to be his food are allowed in his enclosure and they never last long. Even the other hybrids on the Gojo conservation give his enclosure a wide berth, knowing they would not come out unscathed or even alive should they dare enter.

That is until the day you, hybrid Housecat!Reader, wander in.

You are Exotic Pet Owners!Satosugu's favorite hybrid pet. A cute and pampered little Persian who sleeps curled at the foot of their bed when you aren’t nudging them aside to tangle yourself between them. They’ve adorned you with a cute rose gold and pink sapphire studded collar tied on your neck and extravagant pink bow that secured the back.

Signaling to all that you’re spoiled, adored—and absolutely clueless when it comes to just about anything then being 'their cute lil kitty'.

Geto complains it’s Gojo who spoils you rotten, allowing you access to any and everything you’d could ever want before you even ask for it. But Gojo just can’t deny his pretty prized Persian, who’s won many blue 1st place ribbons in hybrid cat shows, a single thing. So when they leave one day to run errands and forget to close the backdoor that leads down to the reserve, your lack of established boundaries has it so you don’t think twice about if you’re actually allowed to go outside.

Never mind that you’ve never been outside on your own before. 

Your biggest solo outdoor adventure thus far has been the Gojo manner’s impressively ordinate screened sunroom.

But you don’t consider any of that.

Especially since a pretty blue jay flutters right in front of you onto the porch railing. Flapping its wings like he's just begging you to play with him as it sings a sweet tune.

So off you go, no shoes and no care simply wearing the pretty pink frilly Chanel house slip that Gojo bought for you last week.

Being outside for once is exhilarating and your tail flicks with excitement as you continue to run after the elusive blue jay that flits just out of reach.

When it lands on sign atop a tall fence, you don't even bother reading it as your eyes never leave the bird. Reeling back, you gear to pounce and in one hop you use the sign as leverage and hop over the fence. Your cute paws hitting the grass of Sukuna’s domain—not even registering the faint hum of the hazardous electric barrier behind you.

Caracal!Sukuna whose senses quickly is alert him to the intrusion. Initially he thinks he's being fed his dinner earlier than usual so he's very surprised to see another hybrid in his space.

Such a kept, pampered thing at that—it's clear you didn't have a clue where you were as you continue to give chase to the bluejay. Sukuna follows you with curiosity. He’s not even trying to hide his presence either, you are in his territory after all, so the fact you don't notice him after a few minutes?

Your ignorance is simply astounding to him.

It’s not until a flash of movement knocks you on your rear and scattered feathers flutter around you do you realize your bluejay friend is gone—and now register the presence of the huge, scarred hybrid now crouched in front of you.

Sukuna swallows and you cringe as you can see a lump you can only guess is Mr. Bluejay traveling down Sukuna’s throat.

Caracal!Sukuna whose imposing presence causes you to shiver in fear as he's starring you down like you’re his next meal.

Another vision blurring flash and Sukuna is right in front of you now.

With a squeaky yelp you scratch him, swiping at his nose on pure instinct—more startled by his quick movements than anything.

You’ve never seen this huge cat before. He’s scary. 

You didn’t mean to hurt him. You just want him to know you’re not happy at him eating your friend.

Still, it’s a big mistake but you can’t even manage to apologize as your voice is frozen in your throat.

Caracal!Sukuna who ears sweep back as he hisses teeth barred in a dangerous grin. Your cute manicured claws aren’t even enough to draw blood which confirms to him how utterly weak and useless you are as a feline. 

Enjoying watching you squirm in terror under his gaze, Sukuna savors your fear he can smell it in the air. 

“Run—I’ll give you to the count of 3 little kitty. If I catch you through—you die.”

You don’t need to be told twice and you’re off fast as your limbs can carry you.

Yet, you are an indoor cat and the chase you gave the bird had already depleted most of your energy. Huffing and puffing, everything from your breath to your clumsy run through the forest tells Sukuna exactly where you are. 

It was futile from the beginning but Sukuna likes to play with his prey circling you in wide arcs. Tsk, you don’t even sense him.

Sukuna takes pleasure in the fact knowing he could kill you at any second, rip that soft fur right off.  His claws are longer, sharper than yours and his muscles are well-honed—trained for a single bone-crushing leap.

Nevertheless, he still allows you to think there’s a chance for escape when truthfully—you’d been running deeper into his territory the entire time.

Caracal!Sukuna who watches you foolishly dart into a cave for shelter—his cave.

His home.

You realize this is Sukuna's lair far too late though when you see his makeshift bed pallet—a pile of bones only cushioned with various animal skins and furs. All in piecemeal as they had been his prey before as well.

Heart racing, you swallow hard as the inevitability of your fate settles over you. Your hormones surges as pure adrenaline triggers a strange molten feeling, leaving your skin hot, your breath shallow. A shiver of terror runs through you as Sukuna's shadow stretches across the lair, swallowing the light.

Blocking the entrance in two strides, Sukuna’s shoulders hunch, eyes fixed on you with something between fury and fascination—he’d killed other hybrids before but never before has he seen one pout in indignation as they were about to die, it's almost comical.

You were interesting. Appraising you once more from head to toe your soft body, even softer fur and pretty collar—you were clearly cared for. Something about knowing that and knowing he was sentenced to sleep in a cold dirty cave pisses him off more and his fierce hisses grow louder.

“Please, *sniff* mister big kitty I’m sworry, I scratched you—

Tears run down your flushed cheeks and as last resort you roll on your back in submission. Paws up and tail curled between your thick thighs, your slip falls back and exposing your plump bare ass to Sukuna.

Caracal!Sukuna who is unmoved by any appeals for mercy, still planning to lodge his claws into your pretty skin—until he senses it.

That smell of yours.

Hot, sweet—and utterly intoxicating that pricks at his senses. The blood in his veins boils red hot and every strand of fur stands up straight to attention.

Nostrils flaring from the assault, his gaze sharpens to the source—the thick slick that's started to wet your bottom and now the floor of his cave.

Fuck.

And in that very moment Sukuna decides your fate.

Exotic Pet Owners!Satosugu who expect to see you at the door when they get home. You always greeted them, a sulky pout on your lips when they were gone too long claiming you were bored all day. You didn’t want to make friends with the domesticated other hybrids—you only wanted them. 

Initially, Gojo thinks you are simply hiding. Waiting to pounce on him so he can love on you and give you all the gifts he bought you when him and Suguru were out shopping. But after 10 minutes Gojo you are nowhere to be found.

The other hybrids don’t know either which prompts Geto to pull up your collar’s Airtag to see your location.

The blue dot shows up bright and clear beeping that you are close by—within a mile...

In Sukuna’s enclosure.

Exotic Pet Owners!Satosugu who go into Sukuna’s domain armed—tranq darts, stun batons—and Geto even has a pistol hidden in his belt. 

Gojo is hopeful but Suguru is prepared for a bloodbath, knowing all too well the track record of Sukuna’s. 

But the scene inside the den is unexpected as both men freeze.

You're alive to be sure—on your back, legs bent in a vicious mating press, Sukuna’s thick cock drowning in your slick as he pummels into your swollen cunt over and over. 

If not for your coloring it be hard to tell where Sukuna ended and you began, you're both filthy—fur sticky with spit, cum, dirt and lord knows what else. Your expensive Chanel slip in tatters as your tail twitches helplessly under Sukuna's weight, damp and matted with fluids. Your nipples, engorged and leaking, are sore from the bounce back of relentless rutting. Drool glistens at the corner of your mouth, spilling over your bruised lips as your jaw slacks.

More animal than human at the moment, you’ve gone completely non-verbal. You mewl, purr and hiss from the various sensations Sukuna is ruthlessly delivering straight into your guts. 

Gojo thinks sometimes they could be a bit rough with you, but him and Suguru’s teasing nips, firm hands and playful wrestling had nothing on the beastly manner Sukuna was fucking you in. 

Gojo's eyes widen to see your belly is already distended, too full from the amount of seed Sukuna has already pumped into you. Yet it's still not nearly enough for Sukuna to be satisfied as he savagely fucks you, round after round atop his pile of bones and carcasses.

His heavy barbed length drags against every raw, creamy ridge inside you. Cock pulling primal sounds from your throat you didn’t even know you could make. 

Fluffy pampered house cat be damned—Sukuna fucks you like a wild animal.

Exhausted, your head lulls to the side and you finally see them—Exotic Pet Owners!Satosugu.

Both stand stunned. Gojo, mouth open in shock sporting a half chub as Geto simply shakes his head and mutters something about installing a moat around Sukuna's perimeter.

You don't know how to feel though, a mix of emotions bubble up.

Perhaps 6 rounds ago you would have called out for your owners, begged them to rescue you from this wild beast ripping through your insides. That you wanted to be praised and petted gently, while given the strong slow strokes you were used to... 

Then it hits you—a high, delirious giggle bubbles up between your moans at the mere thought of it. 

You realize that nothing your owners have ever done compares to being fucked like this—like prey pinned and claimed until there’s no scent left on you but the fierce feline above you—whose name you still don't even know.

Every thrust of Sukuna’s is another brand, another mine-mine-mine! carved into your body. His knot swells full at your entrance, locking you in place while his broad hips keep pumping.

You didn’t know mating could be like this—hell, you didn’t know you even know what the word fully meant until now—to have a mate. But every time Sukuna’s fat round tip slams until your womb the word is seared that much deeper into your brain.

Mate...Mate...Mate! 

Caracal!Sukuna who doesn’t stop either when Gojo and Geto appear. Of course, he senses them way before you do—before they even entered the cave actually. He doesn't give a fuck though and won’t pay them any mind as he’s on a mission to drill a liter of his kittens into your pretty pussy that so brazeningly dared to enter his lair in a heat. 

Sukuna knows they won’t try to pull him off either—both men know enough about feline hybrids to recognize the risk of stopping a knotted wildcat mid-rut.

They would end up hurting you more than him, and Sukuna knew they wouldn't dare.

Fuck, you’re tight though—cunt gripping him harder and Sukuna has to clench his teeth to prevent his own eyes from rolling back into his skull and moaning like a lil bitch.

Sukuna's life up until now was fucking shit but your soft moist heat is so graciously swallowing him til' the hilt each time, squeezing his knot so obscenely as you purr so sweetly beneath him—giving him a true taste of whatever heaven must be like. Having been fed suppressants to temper his aggression all his life Sukuna has many a heat cycle to make up for in the slick confines of your tight cunt.

Caracal!Sukuna who keeps you in his den for 3 days while the worst of your heat passes. You remain glued to his side, his tail always looped possessively around you—your waist, your bicep, your ankle, keeping you tethered to him at all times. 

It’s not like you could leave even if you wanted to, the intense heat between your tender thighs threatening to devour your body whole unless Sukuna and his massive girth extinguished it. Ropes and ropes of his hot milky fluids the only thing in the world that could sate your greedy womb.  

Surprisingly though Sukuna isn’t half bad at aftercare. Grooming you as best he can by licking away your sweat, tears and cum when he’s not fucking you into another limp mewling heap of bones and fur.

Exotic Pet Owners!Satosugu who cautiously return on the 4th day to find you naked, happily perched in Sukuna’s lap, licking his ears while he pretends not to thoroughly enjoy it. At their intrusion, Sukuna doesn’t move, doesn’t bare his teeth—just glares murderously at them over your head for having the nerve to interrupt him and his new mate.

You having some sort of attachment to Sukuna was expected, but Gojo and Geto didn’t anticipate you flat out refusing to return to the main house unless Sukuna can come with you—and like the utterly spoiled brat you are, you also refused to stay another night outside in a smelly dilapidated cave.

The feral haze of your heat had worn off and the realization that you had been romping around on carcasses and old bones disgusted you.

Sukuna smirks and holds onto you more posessively, not expecting his cute lil mate to defend him so intensely. You made promises you couldn't keep, saying Sukuna would be a “good kitty” as long as he could be with you.

That wasn’t completely a lie—Sukuna still felt aggression and the instinct to kill in his bones yet the intense gnawing had tapered off immensely since he’d been around you. 

You rubbing your fluffy lil' head underneath his chin could temper the worst of his moods—making him relatively docile as long as you were near. 

In a move that surprises everyone—it’s Geto to who agrees first.

On the condition that Sukuna behaves.

No biting, no scratching, no tearing up the house or harming any of the other animals or hybrids on the property.

“How could you Sugu!?”

Gojo feels betrayed. He wanted to play hardball, not wanting Sukuna anywhere near his precious Persian kitty.

But Geto, the far more practical of the two sees this as the opportunity it is to finally semi-domesticate the wild cat that had caused them so many problems, and so much money, up until now. 

Caracal!Sukuna who ends up moving in that very night—noteably uneventful, aside from the chaos of forcing the two of you into an actual water bath with soap.

The two of you reek.

All is calm until somewhere in the middle of the night, Gojo’s awoken by the shifting weight at the foot of his and Geto’s California king bed.

There’s two extra bodies now—you, curled across Sukuna’s chest, tail looped around his arm and Sukuna, one clawed hand kneading the fat of your hips in slow, possessive flexes.

You’re softly purring, grooming Sukuna with tiny micro licks under his jaw—the same licks—you used to affectionately give Gojo when he’d brush you.

Sukuna’s ears twitch, but he doesn’t move, eyes fixed on Gojo with smug, unblinking triumph.

Gojo’s chest tightens. It’s not like there isn’t room—hell, you could fit five more bodies in this bed if you wanted to. But you’re curled up on him, purring so sweetly for him, lavishing all that soft, sweet attention on the mangey scarred stray that you should be giving him!

Caracal!Sukuna who, real talk, doesn’t even want to be in this fucking bed right now, he hates the stench of Gojo and Geto. Yet it's you, Housecat!Reader who insisted on sleeping at the foot of their bed on your first night back.

Sukuna sure as shit wasn’t about to let you sleep there alone either and have one of them touching you.

So when Gojo crawls over to pet your back, just to remind you he’s still here—Sukuna’s tail is quick to lash at him in sharp warning, a deep low hiss emanating from his slightly bared teeth. 

“Yeah, sure…” 

Gojo mutters under his breath, pouting.

“…just forget about the guy who bought you the fancy treats and collars, no big deal.”

Awake this entire time due to Gojo’s whining, Suguru cracks one eye open, sighs, and tugs Gojo back down to sleep. 

“Turf wars can wait until after coffee tomorrow—and maybe after we get them their own room.”

You only purr louder as Sukuna squeezes on your ass grow more lustful, utterly oblivious to what just went down between him and Gojo.

Sukuna tips his chin to nose at your hair—mouth curling in an evil grin.

You’re not their pretty lil' spoiled Persian any longer.

You're his.

an: hybrid cat sukuna oml *eyes roll back into head* jdfbchsdbhfcs. this was fun to write. thats all for now but maybe ill revisit in the future!

lmk how u liked it~its my first hybrid fic!

[creamcutt]

king! sukuna refuses to remarry

you had not meant to speak of it — truly, you hadn’t. but the thought had long wormed its way into your mind, coiled and quiet at first, until one day it twitched in the shadows behind your eyes even when you dressed, even when you looked at your hands, when you spoke and someone younger, lighter, newer answered in court with a tone that mirrored yours and perhaps carried it better.

you are not decaying, no. you are not brittle or sickly. but you are aging.

it is subtle. a warmth leaving your limbs year by year, nothing that shows in the mirror but feels. the worm of reason tells you it is natural, it is good. the voice of doubt tells you your husband is a god amongst men — should sukuna not wish for a wife who can match him in untouched bloom?

so one evening, when the lamps are low and the sounds of the court are far, you dare it. you couch it in strategy, in duty. as though it is a thing of politics and not your own breaking heart.

"if you were to take a second wife — perhaps as a gesture of goodwill toward the families of kyushu, they have many daughters yet unwed — it would be understood. expected, even. alliances often require..."

the words trail, yet you don’t look at him. not at first. but when you do, the silence is not a gentle thing. it is cold. it is deafening.

and sukuna is looking at you like you have struck him across the mouth.

he does not raise his voice. he does not snarl. but his fingers curl around the armrest of his seat until the wood creaks and his shoulders coil like a drawn bow.

“...you dare suggest,” he says, slowly, voice a grind of stone, “that i trade you like livestock for a gesture?”

you flinch, not because he is angry, but because you had hoped — hoped — he would brush it off, laugh it away. instead, he is furious. "you think i would turn my wife — my wife, the one who held this house up in drought, in war, in bloodshed — for what? for youth?"

he rises. not towards you, but away, stalking a few paces across the chamber. you can see the twitch in his jaw, the way his hands flex like they long for a sword. not at you — never at you — but at the idea. the insult. the absurdity.

"what man," he mutters, half to himself, "chooses to grow old alone?"

he turns back, eyes hot and unblinking. "you think marriage is about perfection? about keeping the face the same, the skin smooth? have i asked for another?" a pause. then, more bitterly: "have i strayed?"

you shake your head, whispering, "no — never—"

"then what have i done to make you think i'd prefer someone new? someone untouched by time, untouched by me?"

you lower your gaze, ashamed. “i only thought… you deserved the option.”

he steps closer. "i do not want options."

and then, quieter. rawer. more difficult for him to say: "i want you."

he doesn’t sit beside you, not yet. doesn’t take your hands, or kiss your brow. he is not that kind of man. but he looks at you with a thunderous finality.

"if i have the blessing to age, then let it be with you—not around you, not away from you. with you."

then he says nothing more. only stands there, chest rising, as though he has laid down his sword and expects you to believe him.

the silence that follows your tears is not heavy—it is alive. it tightens the air between you.

the first drop leaves your eye before you can stop it, sliding down with a traitorous warmth that betrays every ounce of composure you thought you had left. it is quiet. it makes no sound. but sukuna flinches like it had struck him.

you see it — the way his hand hovers, uncertain, just barely raised. he doesn’t move closer, not yet. he’s a man forged of war and wrath, not tenderness. affection doesn’t come easy to him; it’s not that he doesn’t feel, it’s that he does, too much, and never knows where to put it.

his brow furrows. "have i... said something wrong?" his voice, usually sharpened with command, sounds dull. hesitant. you shake your head at once, your throat thick, mouth barely able to shape the words.

“no,” you whisper, wiping quickly at your cheek, “you’ve only said what i think i’ve been waiting to hear.”

he watches you, the way your lashes are wet and your shoulders still tight from trying to hold yourself in. and for a man so bad at showing softness, he doesn’t look away. not even once.

“i’m not crying because you hurt me,” you murmur. “i think… i just needed to know that i mattered to you not despite the years, but with them. that this — us — isn’t just duty. that it’s a choice. every day, still.”

sukuna’s jaw tenses, not in anger now, but in something stranger. something unreadable. the kind of expression that only ever visits his face in the privacy of your chambers, and even then, rarely. he doesn’t speak again. only nods once, slow and deliberate, like he’s memorizing you.

the conversation fades. the lamps are blown out. the futon waits. and that’s when it happens.

when you’ve laid down, arms wrapped around yourself as they often are out of habit, you feel it: the shift of weight. the slide of him easing down beside you, closer than usual. his hand hovers again, just like before, and this time — it lands. tentative. on your waist, warm and steady.

he’s never been the kind to pull you to him, not in sleep. but tonight, he tries. tonight, he does.

you don’t say anything. just press your hand over his, letting him know that you feel it. that you’re here. and he doesn’t draw back. doesn’t flinch. only exhales once, deep and low, as if anchoring himself in the space you make for him.

and when you close your eyes, the ache in your chest is gone. not replaced, not erased —held.

your marriage had always been a union of strength. but tonight, it is something softer. tonight, it is love — quiet, earned, and real.

[suiana]

people are making yanderes too attractive these days

therefore in my next game i

[syrecjh]

──★ ˙🪑 ̟!! The Seat Beside Him

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || katsuki bakugo x reader, pure fluff

There’s a rule no one speaks aloud, but everyone seems to follow.

Every day — be it in the classroom with harsh fluorescent lights, the worn-out seats of the training bus, or the crowded, chaotic cafeteria — the seat beside him is yours.

No one’s ever told him to do it. You never asked. But it happens all the same.

Bakugo is always early. Not because he’s waiting for you (he’d scoff at the thought), but because he’s not the kind of guy who shows up last. So he gets there first, drops his bag beside him, leans back, arms crossed, and waits. For class to start. For the noise to fill the room. For your familiar steps — always a little too rushed — to echo down the hallway.

And then you’re there.

He doesn’t look up. Doesn’t say your name. Doesn’t move dramatically to catch your attention. But his foot shifts ever so slightly. His elbow draws back just enough. The bag is moved — like it never meant to be there in the first place.

And you sit.

No “good morning.” No “thanks.” No “is this seat taken?” You never have to ask. It’s yours, and it always has been.

Maybe others have tried. Kaminari once plopped down in it, all bright-eyed and grinning — until Bakugo narrowed his gaze with the kind of quiet fury that makes your throat close up. Denki laughed it off. “Chill, bro, damn.” But he never sat there again.

The class got the message.

The thing is, Bakugo doesn’t want to make it obvious. He doesn’t do obvious. But his body betrays him — the way his shoulders tilt just slightly your way when you talk, how his fingers tap against the desk whenever you lean too far toward someone else. The way he always takes the aisle seat and leaves you the wall, even though he hates sitting where people can brush past him.

You don't say anything about it.

And he doesn’t want you to.

Because this — this quiet routine, this wordless claim — is all he can offer for now. He doesn’t know how to say it. That he wants you there. That the seat isn’t just a seat. It’s the last barrier he has before his feelings spiral out of control. If he can hold onto this — your elbow just barely brushing his during lectures, your laughter at something he muttered — then maybe he can survive the waiting.

But it’s not nothing.

He keeps count.

Every day you sit beside him, he tallies it in his head. Keeps the number to himself like a secret prayer. One hundred and fifty-two days. And counting. Some of those days you were tired and leaned your head on your folded arms. One time, your shoulder grazed his and lingered. He didn't breathe for a full ten seconds.

Some days you’re late. And he fidgets. Taps his pen. Glares at the clock like it’s mocking him.

And on the rare day you’re absent — sick, on a mission, running errands on something— he doesn’t touch the seat. Doesn’t let anyone else even look at it. He just sits there, jaw tight, arms folded, scowl locked into place. But his eyes keep flickering to the door.

At lunch, he still picks the same table. Still leaves the same seat empty.

When someone asks, “Where’s she?”

He shrugs. “Dunno.”

But his chest feels too quiet. Too still.

Later, when you come back, eyes puffy from a cold or something from the walk across campus, you barely notice the relief in the way he shoves your tray a little closer, or how he mutters, “Took you long enough.”

But he notices everything.

The seat beside him is still yours.

Even when you don’t see it, he’s holding it — holding space for you in the only way he knows how.

And maybe, one day, you’ll notice.

Maybe you’ll stop just sitting.

Maybe you’ll stay.

The seat beside him isn’t just a seat. It’s a placeholder for all the words he hasn’t said yet. A space held, day after day, until you realize it’s always been yours.

And when you’re absent, he doesn’t fill it.

He just stares ahead with that quiet restlessness,

like something’s missing,

and maybe, deep down,

he hopes you feel it too.